


Avante Garde

by mydeira, Sadbhyl



Series: Responsible Adults (aka, The Menageaverse) [72]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-11
Updated: 2013-04-11
Packaged: 2017-12-08 04:33:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/757096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sadbhyl/pseuds/Sadbhyl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ripper inspires Ethan’s artistic side.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Avante Garde

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wickedfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedfox/gifts).



> Originally published June 13, 2005
> 
> Part of the Ménageaverse, although this is set much before those stories. This was inspired in so many ways by Wickedfox. Thank you for your art, your support and your encouragement, love, and Happy Birthday. And thanks to Mydeira for helping me make this the best it could be. The drawing in question can be found [here](http://www.livejournal.com/users/wickedfox/66680.html).

Ripper was lost in a book. Again

Ethan was just lost in Ripper.

He was reclined on Ethan’s window seat, negligent of his nudity and the risk of exposure in the uncurtained window. That was one of the things Ethan loved about Ripper, how absolutely confident he was being naked. And with good reason. He was long and lean, his youthful body sculpted and supple, capable of dispatching pain and pleasure in equal measure. But rarely at rest the way he was now, one leg bent to support the arm holding his book up, looking for all the world like some Greek statue to learning.

Ethan couldn’t resist the opportunity. Moving silently, he gathered his sketch pad and pencils, settling himself cross-legged on the floor to begin sketching in the outlines of Ripper’s form.

He became transfixed with crafting the likeness of Ripper in two dimensions, caressing each curve and hollow with his pencil. The structure of Ripper’s torso slowly emerged, the curve of his ribs and swell of his pectorals, cut across by the casual drape of his arm. His genitals were hidden by the broad flank of his thigh, but Ethan carefully worked the shadows to imply the pleasures of Ripper’s ass.

Focusing on every fine detail to make the sketch even more realistic, Ethan lost all track of time. His cock rose to prod against the pad in his bare lap, but he ignored his arousal, the drawing consuming him. Finally he got the body and the background to where he was satisfied and looked up to begin the complex task of rendering Ripper’s face.

Ripper was watching him.

His book forgotten, he had his head tipped back against the wall, his eyes hooded in sultry contemplation. When Ethan look up, Ripper drawled, “Take a picture. It’ll last longer.”

Ethan’s breath caught at Ripper’s casual beauty. His full lips were curled up in a tolerant half-smile, his dark eyes still highlighted by the remains of the kohl he had applied last night, making them look softer and almost feminine. Ethan tore his eyes away, not wanting Ripper to see him vulnerable. “A photo wouldn’t do justice. Now don’t move.”

Ripper must have been feeling benevolent. Rather than rebelling against Ethan’s command, he just subsided, content to watch Ethan work.

Ethan captured his lover’s features first, using fine, precise strokes, eager to capture this rare view of Ripper, usually angry or violent, always passionate, always in motion.

“Why the hell didn’t you study art at university?” Ripper asked quietly.

“Uncle wouldn’t pay for it.” Ethan didn’t look up from his sketch pad. “Said it was too sissy. By that point, I’d have agreed to anything just to get the bloody hell out of Kent.”

“Could have done what you wanted once you got here.”

“I did.”

They were quiet for a bit as Ethan traced in the elegant shape of Ripper’s ear and the gold ring piercing the lobe, shading in the square shadow of his jaw. But he should have known Ripper couldn’t be still for long.

“You could go around doing drawings at carnivals and fetes and the like.”

“And sit in the hot sun, sketching snot-nosed brats and poncy tourists for a few quid a day?” He snorted as he roughed in Ripper’s soft waves, emphasizing the few tendrils hanging down over his forehead. “I don’t think so. I’m not working until I can make a big score.”

Ripper snorted. “Like you can do anything worth a lot of money.”

Ethan glared at him over the edge of the pad. “I have many hidden skills.”

Eyes gone dark, Ripper studied him hungrily. “Not much hidden that I can see.”

“I said stay still.” Ethan tried to ignore the frission of lust that fired through his veins.

“No, I don’t think so.” There was almost a hint of threat, a promise of violence in Ripper’s voice that made Ethan tremble. Dropping the book onto the window seat, Ripper twisted with feline grace to land on the floor, slowly crawling across the threadbare rug to where Ethan sat. He plucked the pad from Ethan’s hands and cast it aside before pushing him back to pin him to the floor. Ethan’s heart pounded a quick cadence as Ripper hovered over him with their hard cocks rubbing sensuously against each other, the heavy weight of Ripper’s balls heaven to Ethan.

Ripper bent his head to trace his tongue over the curves of Ethan’s lips, trapping him tighter when he tried to raise his own head to deepen the caress. Tracing up along the underside of his jaw, Ripper toyed with the sensitive skin behind Ethan’s ear until he groaned in desperation. “Bloody hell, Ripper. If you’re serious, don’t play around.”

Ripper pressed harder with his hips, making Ethan arch into him. “I’m very serious, mate,” he purred, running the flat of his tongue against the curve of Ethan’s ear. “Tell you what, I’ll make you a trade. You give me that picture you’ve been working on so long, and I’ll do anything you want.”

The offer made him weak. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Ripper’s expression was smug and knowing, but Ethan didn’t care. “Give us a blow, then,” he demanded hoarsely, his hands pressing down on Ripper’s shoulders.

Ripper smirked the whole way down Ethan’s body to settle himself between Ethan’s straddled legs. Ripper was an artist when it came to oral sex. He had once gone down on a girl for an hour and a half, leaving her no good for either of them afterwards. But the girl had been happy. He didn’t do it to Ethan half often enough. But Ethan had to admit, Ripper could blow him every day and it still wouldn’t be enough. Pulling over a cushion lying haphazardly on the floor, Ethan propped himself up to watch the master in action.

Ripper breathed along Ethan’s cock, making it throb in response. He nuzzled against it, kissing the balls with almost gentle affection. Bobbing his head, Ripper chased the coarse scruff of his beard up and down the fragile skin of Ethan’s shaft, making Ethan cry out in pleasured pain. Almost as an apology, Ripper washed over it with the flat of his tongue.

One didn’t make demands of Ripper when he worked, so Ethan fought down the urge to tell him what to do, to insist that he do something, anything, rather than torture Ethan with these gentle caresses. As though aware of his lover’s restraint, Ripper rewarded him by slipping a lean hand under his shaft, holding it in place as he ran short, rough strokes across the throbbing vein rising along it. Ethan couldn’t help moaning when Ripper reached the head, worrying endlessly at the sensitive crease there until Ethan’s hips rocked encouragingly. Ripper pinned his pelvis down, restraint adding another layer of arousal to Ethan’s already fierce need.

Ripper suckled the vein slowly back down before closing his fist around Ethan’s cock, his mouth continuing down to tongue over Ethan’s balls. Ethan fought down a curse as one by one Ripper sucked them into his mouth, massaging them firmly between tongue and palate, his hand casually sliding up and down Ethan’s aching prick. He wouldn’t give Ripper the satisfaction of begging, no matter how desperately he wanted to.

Ripper seemed fully aware of this. Lifting his head, he studied Ethan while his hand continued working. “You know I’m going to fuck you after this,” he said almost casually.

“Worth it,” Ethan grunted, grinding in pleasure against the rough carpet. “Don’t stop.”

“If you insist.”

And finally, finally, he took Ethan’s cock into his mouth.

Ethan roared, unable to hold it in. The velvet slide of Ripper’s mouth, the rough caress of the edge of his teeth, went through him like wildfire, blinding him, making him numb to all sensation but Ripper’s fierce, consuming mouth. Ripper stopped being gentle, turning it into a sensual torture, his fist squeezing hard, his mouth sucking fiercely as though too impatient to wait for orgasm to taste Ethan’s come. Ethan clutched at the cushion, at the rug, anything to keep from grabbing Ripper’s head to slam down his throat, which would only succeed in pissing him off and bringing a quick end to the incredible play.

But Ripper wasn’t a patient man. Sliding his free hand under Ethan’s ass, he began probing the tight ring of muscle, sliding two fingers in easily even as his head rose and fell in long strokes on Ethan’s shaft. He pushed in deep, finding the node of Ethan’s prostate with ease, and began pushing against it in time to the pulse of his mouth.

Ethan couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, only capable of communicating with harsh grunts and the undulations of his own body. He barely had enough reason to bark and urgent warning of, “Fuck, now!” before he came, hard and fast and explosive. Ripper took one mouthful before quickly backing away, letting the rest shoot across Ethan’s belly in warm threads.

Finally Ethan collapsed, panting against the cushion he rested on. He could sense Ripper waiting with uncharacteristic patience until Ethan opened his eyes again. Then very deliberately, he scooped up the driblets of come with one hand and slicked it over his own cock, watching Ethan the entire time. The sheer eroticism made Ethan whimper in rebuilding desire.

Chuckling wickedly, Ripper grabbed Ethan’s hips and rolled him over, lifting his ass into the air. Satisfied, Ripper let the weight of his prick rest familiarly in the crease as he demanded, “You gonna scream for me this time, Ethan?” His voice fairly throbbed with sexuality, low and threatening.

“Fuck you,” Ethan moaned out, already arching back against him.

“No, I’ll be fucking you.” Already he was probing for entrance. “And you’ll love it, won’t you?”

Ethan needed to feel Ripper’s cock buried in his ass, but he bit hard into the cushion beneath his face rather than confess it. Instead he waited until his lover’s cockhead was just starting to force through the tight pucker of muscle before slamming back hard, taking the full length in an instant. Ripper’s roar of ecstasy covered Ethan’s own cry, but seemed to fire something primitive in Ripper. One hand locked around Ethan’s hip and the other on his shoulder to begin pulling him back into each pistoning thrust until Ethan moved on his own accord, slamming back hard enough to enjoy the slap of Ripper’s balls against his own. “Tight little ass,” Ripper growled, his hand now free to slide around and grip Ethan’s swelling cock. “And you love it when I fuck it, don’t you, Ethan? Don’t you?” He pumped harder when Ethan didn’t answer.

“God, yeah,” he admitted with a sigh, the combined friction of hand and cock building him up again quickly, making him forget to protect himself from Ripper’s harsh censure.

But apparently Ripper had forgotten as well. “Love fucking you, Ethan,” he admitted, his voice hoarse and erratic from his exertions. “Nothing better than this. Feels so good oh fuck Ethan!” With one last penetrating thrust, Ripper came, pulsing deep into Ethan’s ass with every trembling thrust, his spasming grip sending Ethan over as well, Ripper collapsing against his back.

The two of them sagged to the floor, unable to move for long minutes, Ripper’s weight heavy but somehow comforting. At last he rolled off with a deep, contented sigh, sprawling on the carpet next to Ethan. Ethan rolled over as well, sucking in fresh air as he stared at the ceiling, his ass tender but the rest of him at ease.

Ripper reached out with one long arm to pick up the sketch pad and study the drawing, straightening the paper where it had bent across the bottom. “This is really good,” he said finally.

“Thanks.” Ethan didn’t open his eyes.

“Definitely worth having to blow you.”

“Thanks,” Ethan repeated, this time with more irony.

“My nose isn’t that big.”

Ethan snorted. “It is.”

“It’s not.”

“I’m the one who has to look at it all day. It is.”

“It’s still good,” Ripper said finally, contemplating the sketch.

“Ripper, just shut up about the bloody picture. It’s yours now.”

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. You paid for it.” Ethan cracked one eye open to look at him. “Could do another one tomorrow. Same price.”

Ripper stole the cushion and dropped his head on it, drawing Ethan up to settle on his chest, holding him possessively even as he said, “You aren’t that good.”

Ethan just smiled, the image of the Ripper from his drawing forever burned into his memory.  


Continued in [](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/profile)[**mydeira**](http://mydeira.livejournal.com/)'s story [Old Masters](http://www.livejournal.com/users/mydeira/168678.html)


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